A/N: I'm not a great writer... yet. I'm just here to hopefully entertain, learn and relay some meaningful messages through my short stories. Please, feel free to review and give constructive criticism.
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I sit on my bed in my messy room, with my thumb barely hovering over the green call button. I miss her. I should call. Life's too short to hold grudges, right?
Our friendship grew fast. It wasn't a wander with how we opened up and bared our souls to one another so freely. It was pure. I would often drop by her apartment and talk at length about anything: the dread of finals week, solar power movement, "the system", our love interests, astrology. She really loved astrology. She could go on and on explaining away any problem she or I or anyone had with astrology. I didn't believe in it, but at the end of the conversation, after some glasses of wine, which we often drank, I felt better.
One night, in between fits of hysterical laughter, as we often found ourselves in, she told me she loved me. It was a windy night in South Beach Miami. We were on Spring Break having the time of our lives. Till this day it was still the best night of my life. The strangers we stopped on the sidewalks to have gleeful, but benign conversation with would hint that we had had too many drinks. We laughed harder as we explained that we hadn't even had a drop yet.
I felt awkward saying 'I love you' back to another female. Out of all my friends, I was probably the straightest of the arrows. But I knew that wasn't what she meant. I knew she meant that she loved the way we laughed at the silliest of things, started up lively conversation with strangers together, and snapped our fingers walking coolly down the sidewalk like we were straight out of Grease. We named ourselves "Hats n' Snaps."
"We could be dangerous." Snap.
"You don't know why we're wearing these hats." Snap.
"Or maybe we're just two cool cats." Snap.
We would tell strangers.
Yes, we were college students, and yes this was in the twenty-teens (or whatever we call 2010-2019.) We just laughed along with the passerbyers who encountered us. It felt good to spread our joy with others, ever for a moment.
I knew she didn't have another female friend would loves laying in the grass and staring at the stars while smoking, ignoring the thumping music and neon flashing lights of the party across the street. I didn't, either.
Without hesitation, I said I loved her, too. And I meant it. More laughter as we rolled on our stomachs, crouched low to the ground and took turns trying desperately to light our pipe while the other used our fashionable hats to shield the tiny flame from the merciless wind. We bought the hats on a shopping spree earlier that day, I never liked shopping, but she made it so fun. We spent so much! Unfortunately, we neglected to buy some Swisher Sweets in our haste to get to South Beach, and found ourselves in this predicament. But we didn't care... about any set back.
We danced to the club music from across the street. Unabashed and not fazed by approving or disapproving onlookers. How dare we? After all, we were two Black girls dancing rhythmlessly outside of the party, and in the open on a sidewalk. We liked that about each other. Neither of us could dance (as was the stereotype of our people), but together, we would brave the dance floor of any club or party and jerk and sway awkwardly to any music that played.
But what goes up must surely fall, right? I mean all good things come to an end, right? And whatever other pessimistic, but popular quote you use when things turn sour.
Nothing crazy happened. This isn't a story of betrayal or a stolen lover. We just... drifted.
We stopped visiting each other's apartment so frequently, after all, we had finals to think about. We couldn't spend our days drinking wine in local parks forever. This was our last year and we had to start thinking about real life. Her love interest occupied a lot of her time, and though I had my own, I grew tired of hearing about her's.
Among other things I grew tired of half carrying her out of the clubs we liked to dance at, and staying up till she fell asleep while she told me she was sorry for getting this drunk, and begging for me to give her the phone back, so she could curse at whomever she was angry at the moment. Why were we always talking to strangers? Can't we just go out and converse with each other sometimes?
But that semester turned into summer, and summer turned into the beginning of another semester. I would see her at parties. People knew something was up. We used to be inseparable, and now we found each other on opposite ends of the room. We weren't catty, we were cordial. But things were never quite the same.
I could call her now. We could meet up, go out and laugh and act like fools and have yet another great night. Or it could be awkward and uncomfortable for us both. I feel like I had gone through a break up.
I exit the screen and put the phone down. Maybe another day. She'd probably just want to talk about astrology. I don't believe in that stuff, anyway.
